Boys With Girlfriends
by Pieequals36
Summary: High school is like every other social heirarchy. And Sam and Freddie reside on opposite ends.
1. Prologue

**Title:** Boys With Girlfriends

**Rating:** T

**Synopsis:** High school is like every other social hierarchy. And Sam and Freddie reside on opposite ends.

**A/N:** This is gonna be a little fluffy multi-chapter, inspired by a multitude of 90's teen comedies. I know the premise has been done before, but heck. It's just too fun not to do.

**Suggested playlist for this chapter:** Diana Vickers; Once, Ellie Goulding; Under the Sheets, Chris Cornell; Part of Me, A Fine Frenzy; Electric Twist

"You're breaking up with me?"

Freddie Benson stared at the raven haired cheerleader in front of him, watching as she shrugged nonchalantly and looked to her friends for confirmation. It shouldn't have surprised him really; she looked to their approval for _everything else_ they did too.

"Yeah Freddie, I am," Miley cooed, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers, "Griffin Fisher asked me out. And...well you know. Bad boys are _so_ in right now."

"Miley, we've been dating for two years...I love you," he implored, his voice hushed. The group caught it anyway and giggled amongst themselves, pretending to concentrate on their phones. She fluttered her long dark eyelashes; her swirling brown eyes seemed blacker now.

"Listen," she heaved a dramatic sigh, "I loved you too. But I'm seventeen."

She blinked owlishly as if that was enough explanation for ending their two year relationship. "And?" he frowned, confused.

"And....time for a change?" she offered, eliciting more giggles from the group, "Listen Freddie. You shouldn't feel like you're leaving this with nothing. When I met you, you were a complete nerd. I upped your status, you play football now. Girls fall over themselves for you. After this is over, you've left with some very high connections."

"High connections?" he laughed the words, disbelieving, "Miley, baby....don't make me beg."

"Freddie baby," she repeated, taking a step to him, "Begging won't make a difference."

She looked sad, but Freddie honestly believed the emotion to be faked. So much else seemed to have been. With another sigh, she pecked his cheek and rubbed the lipstick off with her finger. "Bye Freddiedoodle."

Flipping her hair, she departed with her Miley army in tow, leaving him gripping the arms of his backpack for support.

"Freddie," a hand snaked its way to his shoulder, "I saw what happened. You ok?"

He turned to his friend, feigning a nonchalance he didn't really feel. "Yeah it's all good. Like I care."

The brunette gave a sympathetic smile, her hand still on his shoulder. "Freddie, it's me here. I'm not one of those douche bags you hang about with. I can tell if you're hurt."

"I'm not hurt," he asserted, almost a little angry at the assumption, "Like she said, I'm the captain of the basketball team. I've got good grades, good friends. I'm gonna be just fine."

Carly nodded, slowly and deliberately. "Wanna be just fine at mine tonight with me, pizza and Noah?"

"Yeah. Eight?" he asked quickly.

"Eight for what?"

Samantha Puckett bounded up to the pair, her long, straight blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders. A contradiction in terms, the small blonde looked menacing in ripped dark denim and an angry Metallica t-shirt. Some things would never change.

"Your parole officer is calling round," Freddie snapped.

"What's wrong Frednerd? Finally realised shooting balls through hoops is as pointless as say...your life?"

"Delinquent," he spat, turning and walking away.

"Douche face," she retorted coolly turning to Carly. She glowered at Sam through expertly curled bangs.

"Whatever happened you two?" the brunette asked, rueful, "I remember a time when your insults were full of love and imagination."

Sam narrowed her ice blue eyes. "Junior high happened Shay."

"Yeah but you two used to be...weird friends. It was nice. We had a web show," she reminded her best friend. Sam ignored her, focusing her attention on her over stuffed locker, and trying to balance the contents while shoving her gym bag inside.

"I'm fully aware of that Carly. I was there."

"Yeah I know. And I was there when you suddenly stopped talking."

"Nothing sudden about it kid. Freddie got all popular and if possible even more dweeby than usual, and I just got too cool for him. It was inevitable really."

Carly's brow furrowed, and she leaned into the lockers. "But how did I manage to stay friends with both of you if these changes were so huge?"

"Cos you..." the blonde stopped briefly to kick the locker door shut and it closed with a resounding clank. "You are like Sweden. Forever neutral and pretty."

"Pretty?" Carly cocked a perfectly groomed eyebrow, but was clearly flattered by the compliment.

"Yeah. I figured mentioning the word pretty would make you forget what we were talking about," Sam grinned, jutting her chest out proudly. Out the corner of her eye she caught Griffin striding down the corridor of Westbury High, leather clad, pulling off his 'oh so bad and I know it' look. She couldn't help it; she swooned like a girl.

"Why did you ever dump that stud muffin?" Sam growled, lusting after the bulky teen.

Carly shrugged, following the blonde's gaze. "Pee-wee babies amongst a multitude of other factors. Plus, I have Noah. How can I do better than a youth volunteer, who beats guys up who bump into me at clubs but is still huggable and adorable?"

Sam blinked. "Way to wave your perfect boyfriend in my face Shay."

"Sorry, but he is perfect."

Sam watched on horrified as he leant on Miley Jacobs locker, touching her hair and laughing. The dark haired, Britney-esque cheerleader lapped up the attention, hiking her skirt up just that little bit higher.

"Eh....did I miss something?" Sam turned on Carly, gesturing wildly at the couple.

"Huh?"

"Since when did the STI ridden whore open her legs for business again? I thought she was dating the Nerd!"

"Oh..."Carly paused, glancing between Sam and the couple, "Yeah. She broke up with Freddie."

"What?" Sam's screeched induced a nervous jump from the brunette, and she backed off a little.

"Yeah. Like a few minutes ago. Felt the need to make a bit of a scene too. Apparently she and Griffin have a thing going."

"You're shitting me?" Sam scowled, folding her arms across her chest, "Why? Why is she going after the one guy who isn't a complete loser in this school? The one guy I'm actually interested in?"

"Cos she has a thing about stealing guys you have a crush on?"

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"Never mind. I don't know why Sam," Carly sighed, turning and making her way to class. She could hear the patter of Sam's converse following her.

"Carly, I don't think your grasping the level of my distress."

"I understand Sam, I do. But let's face it, you'll go to that dingy rock club of yours tonight and find some other meathead to fill Griffin's shoes. You'll drink Jager, make out a little and it will all be fine tomorrow."

Sam paused, watching bewildered as her friend escaped into Math class.

"But...I don't like Jager."

* * *

Carly and Noah were a pretty cool couple to hang out with. Freddie had reached this conclusion after making peace with the idea of Carly settling down with a ridiculously intelligent volunteer who looked like he lived in the gym. Sure, a younger him would have felt seriously threatened by the other boys presence but something about the pair just fitted perfectly. They weren't big on the displays of affection around people, they conversed with others well. They just seemed to match and hanging out with them was like hanging out with two good friends. There was no awkwardness, or feeling of being misplaced. It was natural and fun. Briefly he wondered if that's what it was like for Griffin and Miley, though this he highly doubted.

"Yo dude," Noah clicked his fingers in front of a dazed Freddie, "Gonna join us in the land of the living?"

"He's thinking about Miley," Carly answered, nestled in her boyfriends embrace.

"Am not!" Freddie defended, pouting a little.

"Then enlighten us Freddie," Carly challenged, "What deep thoughts occupied that ever running brain of yours?"

"I was just thinking....about a pop quiz I have in Algebra tomorrow."

"Surely if it's a pop quiz, you wouldn't know about it?" Noah frowned, bemused.

"What are you? The math cops?"

"Don't get mad at Noah 'cause you couldn't come up with a better lie," Carly grinned lifting her head a little.

He mumbled obscenities under his breath, crossed his arms and sank further into his side of the sofa like a petulant child. There was one bad thing about Carly having a boyfriend; she now had back up anytime she needed. It made for very pointless arguments, on his side anyway. The sound of Kesha filled the living room and Carly answered her Pear phone, leaving the boys to the film.

"Griffin's an idiot man," Noah offered, taking a swig of his beer.

"He is isn't he?" Freddie sought confirmation from the sandy blonde boy on the other end of the sofa.

Noah nodded, the bottle pressed to his lips. "Yup. No one wears a biker jacket anymore. It's not 1999."

"Guys, we've got a huge problem," Carly announced, looking flustered from the landing.

"What's up baby?" Noah queried, turning on the sofa.

"It's Sam; I just got a call from her. She's drunk outside some bar near the Groovy Smoothie. She's in a really bad way, we need to get her."

"We can take my car," Noah stood up quickly, searching out his keys.

"No honey, we've both been drinking. And besides, have you forgotten about the little bundle of joy that is my niece lying upstairs? Can't leave her."

"Then what can we do? Will we call her a cab?"

"Well....there is one person here who hasn't been drinking tonight."

Carly turned to the brown haired boy on the sofa, smiling hopefully.

Freddie gazed at her, his features raised. "No way."

"Please Freddie," she begged, making her way around the sofa and kneeling in front of him. "I wouldn't ask but she's started to ask where she can buy more scotch socks."

"What?"

"Scotch on the rocks."

"Still no."

"Freddie!" she whined, tugging on his hand, "Please. Do this one thing. For me?"

There it was. The flutter of the lashes, the ever so subtle boob lift as she clenched her shoulder blades together. He may have gotten over Carly Shay sometime ago, but alas was still male and therefore not immune to her feminine wiles.

Freddie stood and groaned. "Fine. But you owe me big time."

"Aw my knight in shining armour," she smiled, rubbing his arm.

"Your flattery is useless now Shay, you've got me to do what you wanted."

* * *

Freddie pulled up alongside Gallagher's pub, expertly avoiding the drunks and the unconscious as he parked by the side walk. He had never been to the place but had heard stories of drunken brawls and soft drug taking. It was the perfect hang out for any Sam Puckett type. She would fit right in here. He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he got out of the car; perhaps more of a search for the perpetual delinquent, alas she stood arguing with a burly bouncer, aggressively gesturing and screaming at the top of her lungs. Freddie stepped in between them to dissolve the situation.

"Hey Sam, what ya doing?" he asked, a little dumbly. She blinked, uncomprehending.

"What you doin' here Benson?" she drawled, stumbling backwards. He reached out, catching her elbow.

"Came to give you a ride home," he offered, still grasping her arm.

"I'm sure you did. Now that Miley-has-tampon-lodged-up-her-backside Jacobs dumped you, I'm sure you would want to ride anything that wasn't as frigid as ice."

His nostrils flared, colour rushing to his face. He had never wanted to hit a girl in his life, but Sam was making it very tempting. "Sam," he tried again keeping his tone level, "Carly told me you needed a ride."

"No. I told Carly I wanted more alcohol," she slurred, tripping on her black heeled boots, "And I'd get me more alcohol if James here would let me back in."

The bouncer regarded her briefly again, his gaze then fluttering to Freddie. "Puckett can't come back in tonight. Too many fights."

"I didn't fight with that guy! He punched my stomach first!"

"Someone punched you?" Freddie asked, pushing her back from the doorway.

"Oh don't come over all chivalrous," she waved him off, "Like you could kick his ass anyway."

Freddie rolled his eyes having had enough with the blonde and hoisted her over his left shoulder. She screamed and kicked out, yelling something about a bottle of beer she left inside. It was a struggle to bundle her into the backseat of his Ford, and she continued to screech as he turned on the ignition and pulled away from the curb.

"Benson when I get out of here I'm gonna kick your ass!" she warned, kneeing his seat.

"That might have scared me when I was fifteen, but it doesn't work anymore _Samantha_."

"Don't call me that!" she scowled, settling back into the leather. He glimpsed in the rear view mirror, watching her curl up on the seat.

"Don't you dare get sick in there."

The only response he received was a guttural snore, and his lips curled on one side at the sight of her heaped in back of his car. If he thought about, and Freddie did not like to think about it much, he missed her. Some odd, S&M fetish part of his personality missed the abuse and the fun. At least he knew what he was getting with Samantha Puckett; he could not say the same about his new ranking in the social order of high school. Sam had not taken well to his newfound popularity, particularly the girlfriend that had come along with it. From the beginning she made known her disdain for Miley, voicing it on quite a number of occasions. From there, they parted quite naturally. Sam became more and more involved in the rather seedy aspects of high school, Freddie became the quintessential jock. On opposite ends of the spectrum, they simply no longer matched. He would admit, perhaps begrudgingly, that being friends with Sam once upon a time was one of the most natural things in the world.

Pulling into Sam's driveway, he looked back at the blonde lump. Her hair fell over her heavily made up face, her neon pink skirt rising dangerously high up her hips exposing her torn fishnets. It was quite the wonder how she had not become a target for the sleazy and rough, and Freddie feared more than a little that she was especially vulnerable. He cursed his natural chivalry; he very much doubted she gave a damn about his honour, why should he concern himself with hers? Sighing he reached into the back and shook her leg.

"Sam," he said, "Sam wake up."

Grunting she turned away from him, burying herself further into his backseat.

"Sam," he repeated a little louder. Suddenly she sprung up, hitting out and whacking him over the nose with her fist. After much kerfuffle, she finally realised what she had done watching as he escaped the confines of car and kicked the wheel, pain cursing through his face. She followed, albeit a little clumsily, losing one of her shoes in the process.

"Dude...are you ok?" she asked, running a hand through her messy hair.

"Do I look ok Sam?" he yelled, still cradling his nose.

She scrunched up her face. "Argh, stop being such a girl!"

"You punched me!"

"You scared _me_!"

"I'm bleeding!"

"I'm drunk!"

Both stopped, Freddie bending forward against the car, still spluttering.

"Call it even?" Sam offered. He glared at her, wiping away a stream of blood from his face.

"Why is it spending time with you ends up in some form of physical violence?"

A heavily intoxicated Sam shrugged over-emphatically, before letting out a long sigh.

"So....Miley and Griffin huh?"

"What is this? Bonding time? Cos I gotta say Sam I think we're well past that."

"No dorkward," she mumbled, teetering a little from side to side, "I just figured...well we sort of have something in common now."

"We have nothing in common," he gritted through clenched teeth, pulling his car door open and slipping inside. As he prepared to turn the ignition there was knock on the window, and against his better judgement, he rolled it down. The drunken blonde leaned in showing an ever expansive line of cleavage, which Freddie chastised himself for noticing.

"Au contraire Benson," she purred with a grin, "Way I see it, your ex has something I want. And the love of my life has something you want."

He rolled his eyes. "So?"

"So? What's the best way of getting back at your ex, or indeed getting someone to notice you?"

"Drinking myself to oblivion and flashing my thong to an entire street of people?" he deadpanned. He sort of regretted it with the way she flinched and her gaze fluttered downwards for more than a long moment.

She cleared her throat. "No. But being on the arm of her complete opposite, who's also quite the hottie might get her attention."

Freddie stared at her, perplexed, before the realisation of what she was suggesting dawned on him. "You want me to date you?" He made a strangled sound, something akin to a cat being killed.

"No Fudgeface," she blanched, looking disgusted, "Not really."

"Not really?"

"Let's call it a business partnership. I help you in whatever way you need to get Miley's attention, and you pay me in kind."

"What makes you think Miley would even care if I dated you?"

Sam smirked, pursing her pale pink glossed lips. "Because I'm her self-declared arch enemy. She hates me more than she hates Vans and faux fur. Sure you could date any other girl in school in a vain attempt at getting the girls attention, but it won't work. She knows she's better than them. I however, I make her feel uneasy and she can't stand that."

"And what do you get out of it?"

"Everyone knows a bad boy's one weakness."

He cocked an eyebrow urging her to divulge.

"Although they'd never admit it the idea of a jock moving in on their turf," she paused to gesture at herself, "That drives them crazy."

"You're crazy," Freddie told her, turning the ignition.

"Maybe," she agreed slowly, "But I'm right and you know it."

Cocking his eyebrow, he reversed from the drive and she watched, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"Offer expires by tomorrow morning Benson. After that I find some other douche bag to help me."

He pulled off, revving the engine into the crisp dark night. Sam Puckett was officially crazy. It would never work.

Right?

* * *

Love it? Hate it? Should I continue?


	2. Contracts & Terminations

_**A/N: **_This is truly awful, but you know what? I had a BLAST writing it. This fic is just pure cheese, there's no substance here lol I was kinda hoping I could take it to somewhere profound and meaningful but screw it. Life's angsty enough why should fan fiction be? Enjoy the cheese kiddies, you all are the reason I keep doing this stuff. Oh and to those of you eagle eyed enough to notice that in the last chapter Miley got the sport Freddie played wrong, well done! It was sort of a subtle hint on how she doesn't really care about him. I loved that some people picked it up

* * *

_Two songs inspired this chapter:_ Wicked Little Girls; Esthero, Bang Bang; K'naan feat. Adam Levine

Sam had grown quite accustomed to the feeling of a hangover. Once passed the sixteen year mark of her existence vodka had made itself at home in her hand - and stomach. While most attributed a hangover with negative thoughts, negative memories, Sam was the opposite. A hangover meant that she had had an _epic_ night out. A bruise or two also evoked similar feelings of pride and fondness. But there was the odd morning, just the occasional one, where a hangover was not as welcome. Usually when she woke up next to someone and didn't remember their name and or sex. However this scenario was a little different. She knew very well the person perched on the side of her bed, knew his smell even better.

Freddie Benson.

In the year she hadn't spoken to the dork he didn't even change his damn cologne. _Figures. _

"Oh God," she groaned, her voice a muffled sound on her mascara stained pillow.

"Man, you are so beautiful in the morning," he announced flatly.

"We didn't...please tell me we didn't..."

For a moment, he contemplated lying but quickly realised it wasn't worth the sucker punch that would inevitably land on his gut.

"No. No we didn't. As attractive as your neon skirt was, I fought the temptation."

"Oh thank God," she replied, her voice husky.

"Here," he sighed, extending a glass out to her, "There's some aspirin on your side locker too."

Screwing open one eye she fixed the boy with a dazed look and reluctantly pushed herself up, resting on one elbow. Accepting the glass, she gestured for the pills and noted his daring eye roll at the request. Apparently she didn't strike as much fear into the heart if she had panda eyes. Still he complied, reaching over and placing the two white tablets in her hand.

"So if we didn't _fuck..._"

The word was harsh and Freddie cringed at the vulgarity, noting that Sam's lips curled at the sides when she noticed his reaction.

"Too offensive for ya?" she teased, sipping on her water.

"Why? Why do you have to be_ so_ uncouth?"

"Fine," she sighed, falling back down on her pillow, "Fine...so if we didn't _make love..._"

She was mocking him and it was working. He was doing that thing he used to do when he was frustrated with her; the bridge of the nose pinch, the clenched eyes. Winding him up still hadn't lost its appeal.

"Yes..." he urged her on, holding a tight smile.

"Well if we didn't, why the hell are you here?"

He holds her gaze, considering something, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. Becoming impatient she began to poke his leg from under the covers, rolling onto her back.

"C'mon Benson, despite appearances, Mamma's got a lot to do today."

"You still call yourself that?"

"Well you're still a nerd, so I guess growing wasn't for either of us," she countered with a pointed glare.

"Whatever," he muttered, "I was being stupid anyway. I should've known I couldn't be around you for more than five minutes without wanting to strangle you."

"A boy sure can dream."

"You're such a bitch."

"Oh. Right through the heart," she gasped dramatically, her mouth pulling into a wide grin. She felt the weight lift off her bed and watched with sparkly eyes as, flustered, he made his way towards her bedroom door.

"_Fredweird,_" she called him back.

Despite everything screaming at him to walk out the door and not look back, a smaller part, but a part nonetheless pulled him around but his hand remained firmly on the doorknob. Kneeling on her mattress in only a white tank top and pair of black boy pants, Sam Puckett looked like every boys dirty fantasy. Smeared black eye makeup, unkempt hair (that appeared to be getting blonder by the week) – _and, Jesus, was that a love bite on her thigh? – _well whatever it was she made quite the picture. Freddie _knew_ what had been said about Sam, what she was willing to do for a free bucket of fried chicken (sometimes less), what was written on the inside of the boys stalls in school but never before had he really_ thought _about it. Mostly because it didn't really appeal to him - god forbid he would be _that_ boy. But Sam was unapologetic for who she was. She lived how she wanted, lied about nothing, never one to mince her words. Somewhere he thought her better than most of the other girls in school – at least she was goddamn honest.

"Did you get a good enough look there Dipthong?" she spewed, her words dripping with venom as she eyed him disgustedly.

"I wasn't looking!" It was a strangled, unconvincing protest, one that only raised a sceptical eyebrow off the blonde on the bed.

"Well when you're done not looking, I'd really like to know why I woke up to find a loser sitting on my bed looking all doe-eyed and stupid."

He heaved a sigh and parted with the doorknob, albeit a tad reluctantly.

"Do you remember our conversation on your driveway last night?"

"Miley and Griffin?"

"You remember?" he replied, looking surprised.

"Of course, what do you think last night was the first time I'd ever drank or something?" she scoffed.

"No I just...well I didn't think...I mean I never remember..."

"Chill out dude, I wasn't having a go."

"Yeah well..." he dragged off, twiddling with his hands, nervous of her intense gaze.

"You wanna do it don't you?" she chortled, the sparkle back in her eyes.

"Do it? Do what?" he asked, startled. Her laugh bounced off the bedroom walls.

"Not _it, _relax Benson," she told him. It didn't stop him being nervous. Sam always had that look – the look of being absolutely willing to jump a boy if it meant getting whatever or whomever she wanted. Suddenly agreeing to a Sam Puckett plan seemed like a very bad idea.

"I know that!"

Another eye roll and she was running a hand through her hair, still smiling.

"So you're on for this yeah? Whatever it takes?"

It was his turn to be sceptical. "As long as it doesn't involve murder or rape of any form," he clarified eliciting another hearty chuckle from her.

"Well I can't promise the latter if I get Griffin alone...that boy has an ass I just want to sink my teeth into." She followed with some rather graphic hand gestures and Freddie shook his head to dispel any thoughts of Sam and Griffin's butt from his mind.

"Don't be such a prude," she chastised, "Like you wouldn't want Virgin Miley to do half of what I'd do to Griffin to you."

"Actually Sam," he corrected, "I respect Miley. I wouldn't want her to do anything she wasn't comfortable with."

"With the things I do, _everyone's_ comfortable," Sam supplied with a lopsided smile.

"Jesus Sam! If we're gonna do this can you please be a little less..."

"Awesome?"

"I was gonna say offensive."

"And I'm gonna stick with awesome."

"God help me," he mumbled, his gaze directed to the ceiling.

"You're looking in the wrong direction," she joked, bringing his eyes back to her and her extended hand. "Shake on it?"

"Do we have to? God knows where that's been."

"Probably similar places to yours."

Eyebrows raised, he kept his arms crossed refusing to take her hand in his.

"Gah fine," she caved, spitting into her palm and rubbing it off her tank top, "All clean and sanitary. Happy?"

He approached, expelling a long breath. "None of this makes me happy Puckett," he told her, shaking her now slightly damp hand. It took all his strength not to look up and down the half naked girl on her knees in a bed, her cleavage pushed together in the most enticing way, and he instead diverted both his and her attention to other matters. "So...what do we do first?"

"We'll start with Miley," she said and after noting his curiosity added, "Leave it to me. See you at school on Monday dork."

Hesitant, he made a path through the clothes, books and CD's scattered on her floor, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his basketball jacket.

"One more thing Fredward," she called. He swivelled on his heel to face her. "If I ever find you on my bed or within two hundred yards of it ever again, I'll cut off your most valued possession and feed it to my cat."

The sheer intent behind her eyes, the determination there was enough to send Freddie scuttling from the room with his tail tucked between his legs (both metaphorically and physically), wondering how in the hell, if they couldn't manage to have a civil conversation in the privacy of her room, they were going to pull off any ambitious plan which involved Freddie being within a mile of Sam without wanting to cut his own ears off.

Desperation and jealousy encouraged Freddie to make odd sacrifices, namely the potential loss of his sanity.

* * *

Sam knew she pretty, the sort of pretty that made girls jealous and boys trip over their own feet. And she also knew how to use this tool to her advantage. She wasn't like the Miley types – the girls who constantly walk around in cheerleader outfits and mid-riff baring shirts, so low you could make out double o and seven. Sam was more subtle, flashing skin only when and where appropriate. Or when and where she felt like she wanted to. Sure, this sort of made her a tease but Sam was always honest about two things in life. Sex and hate. If she wanted you, she'd let you know and vice versa if the feeling was a little more negative. Girls like Miley, that whole popular crowd, she didn't like them and she made it clear. She wasn't a fake; she was blunt. And the boys? Well they were welcome to look, but touch only when explicitly invited. And in the spirit of being honest, many had been extended this invitation. She didn't feel bad, she didn't feel dirty. Sexually liberated was the term of preference.

So Sam certainly didn't feel dirty/slutty when she strutted through the doors of school wearing a barely there red plaid skirt, black knitted u-necked vest over a short sleeved white blouse teamed with fish net stockings and patented red high heels. And she definitely did not feel self-conscious under the appreciative gazes of the male population or the jealous glares of the female half. In fact, the staring put a little more swagger into her walk as she sashayed down the corridors towards Freddie Benson's locker.

She caught the eye of her raven haired best friend, resting back on her locker talking to Wendy and Sam noted the jaw drop.

"Sam?" came the shrill cry.

"What up Carls?" Sam marched right past, her heels clicking loudly off the tiled floor. Her target was firmly in sight, packing books into his locker and conversing with some off his basketball team mates.

"Benson," she announced, spinning him round and forcing him back into his locker with a slam. He squirmed between her and the cold metal, glancing nervously to his friends but still acutely aware of Sam's hand pressed to the hard of his chest.

"What the hell?" he squeaked, trying to mould himself with the metal behind. She stepped further into his personal space, both hands tracing down his arms, sides and finally coming to rest on his hips as she pressed into him.

"Relax dork...I'm not gonna kiss you," she whispered with a smile. Relief seeped in quickly followed by an intense feeling of fear when he felt her hands slide into the pockets of his blue denim jeans.

"Sam..." he repeated, a little more urgently.

"I said relax," she instructed, her fingers dipping nimbly inside his pockets searching something out. Freddie just prayed it wasn't _that_ something. Muttering prayers to the heavens, he kept his hands pressed to the locker behind, trying to look anywhere but down into her expansive line of cleavage. In doing so he realised nearly all eyes were on the pair, pushed up against the lockers, Sam basically raping him in the middle of the corridor. He was pretty sure he had sold his soul to the devil.

"There we go," she smirked, pulling out ten dollars. She directed her gaze at him, eyelashes fluttering. "Thanks for the lunch money..._babe_."

He almost had to force himself not to gag at the pet name that tumbled from her lips instead offering an uneasy smile as she pulled away, clicking off down the hall, leaving a trail of admirers in her wake. Catching Miley from the corner of her eye glowering at her through honey brown bangs, she stopped briefly twirling on her heel beside the cheerleader so that her eyes could follow a path back to Freddie. The nerd was still dumbstruck down the hall and she found it oddly endearing and revolting at the same time.

"He _really _knows how to take care of a girl," Sam breathed and then added with a playful chuckle; "If you get what I mean."

Miley scrunched up her face, appalled at the insinuation but Sam merely giggled and shrugged her shoulders. Maintaining her path down the hall, she swaggered away winking at Griffin by the stairwell. The boy licked his lips, giving her a quick appraisal up and down. _Mission well and truly accomplished. _She only hoped she had left Freddie in somewhat of a coherent state to keep up the act she had set. She seriously doubted it, but was in no fear that whatever the babbling idiot said could be fixed. She was a pro – hell she managed her gag reflex well enough to get within inches of the dork. And that's what the lunch money provided compensation for.

Meanwhile, making his way towards Carly, Freddie desperately tried to regain some form of composure as he was congratulated with many high fives and back pats from his now adoring male followers. He muttered polite thank you's and smiles before facing the all judging brunette. With the way her arms crossed and her lips pouted he knew he was in trouble.

"Carly..."

Her hand flew up in front of his face. "I don't wanna hear it Freddie...I hope you know what you've gotten yourself into."

"But I'm not dating Sam!"

"Well...duh," she scoffed, "But whatever hair brained scheme you and she have concocted, I guarantee you're both playing with fire."

"There's no scheme...not really," he his meek answer came. Sighing heavily, Carly scooped her backpack off the floor.

"Seriously, I think you need to consider this a little bit more carefully. I love Sam - to pieces - but what you see is what you get. There's no hidden inner flower, that's her. Brash and abrasive. And way more sexually advanced than you...hell more sexually advanced than Spencer and he's married."

"I can handle Sam," Freddie assured.

"The last boy to say that checked into rehab a month ago for various addictions," Carly informed him, with a playful smirk. "And besides...you sure this plan is working?"

Gesturing towards Miley, the cheerleader was exclaiming rather loudly how Freddie had downgraded and how she pitied him. Murmurs of agreement followed from the group of girls around her and Freddie frowned, bemused.

"Why isn't she seething with jealousy?" he barked at Carly.

"Maybe because she couldn't give a flying chiz?" Carly offered, strolling ahead of him. He stopped abruptly, his face suddenly dropped and she felt like she had murdered a puppy and given it to him as a Christmas present. "Or...maybe it's because although threatened by Sam, she knows that the way Sam's acting, whatever is going on isn't going to last."

He perked up but only slightly. "So what am I meant to do?"

"Oh no," Carly's head began shaking with vigour, "No way are you going to drag me into this. Last I knew you and Sam hated each other. Now she's throwing herself at you like you're Johnny Depp."

"Trust me, my feelings for Sam won't ever change," he guaranteed, "Please Carly...I love Miley. I just want her a little bit jealous. Just enough to realise she loves me too. Please?"

Meeting his eyes was Carly's fateful mistake. She saw the sadness there, the desperation and the pleading. And she knew that - on his own - Freddie would never be able to deal with Sam, not in a million years. "Fine," she caved, "But right now, I'm late for Geometry."

"Thank you," he repeated over and over while planting kisses on her palm.

"Don't thank me yet," she warned, "My advice? Go talk to Sam. She needs to know that the stunt she just pulled isn't going to work. And tell her to put on some pants or she'll get detention would you?" With that Carly disappeared around the corner leaving Freddie to search out the perpetual delinquent. It didn't take him long to figure out where a cigarette smoking, beer guzzling, school skipping teenager like Sam would hide for first period and much to his expectations he found her loitering under the bleachers with some people who looked like they hadn't stopped smoking weed since seventh grade. He marched up behind, grabbing her elbow and pulling her away from the small, cloud covered crowd.

"Hey!" she scowled, pulling back from his grip, "Watch your damage Fredwina!"

"What on earth where you doing back there?"

She grinned, waggling an eyebrow. "I know, pretty masterful huh?"

"Masterful? You made us both look like complete tools!" he spat furiously.

"Excuse me? I did you a favour!" she yelled back, looking genuinely irate.

"A favour? A favour?" he roared, "I don't call making me out to be a complete scumbag in front of the entire school a favour Sam!"

"So you're a scumbag 'cause you're meant to be dating me?"

"No, I'm a scumbag because _you_ made it out to look like we were fucking, like I was like every other douchebag you've ever encountered!"

"Oh so now you're ok with being vulgar! No modesty when you say the word huh? Hypocrite. And by the way I was_ trying_ to do you a favour loser, but don't worry I won't try again. Deals off Benson!" she seethed, eyes wild.

"Good. Like I ever thought you could be a normal, non psychopath for once in your life. What was I thinking?"

"You were thinking with your dick Fredwad, you were like every other guy in this school. Good luck winning little miss prissy back. You two are going to have some very stiff kids."

"At least they won't end up STI ridden whores like yours," he bit back, smiling at his clever slight.

"Oh go to hell," she threw over her shoulder as she stormed off, back to the direction of her friends.

"Right back at ya," he countered before turning and adding; "Oh and put some pants on, it's the middle of goddamn Autumn."

With that, the warring pair parted. Contract ended, neither were surprised it didn't last a day, but both would begrudgingly admit if only to themselves that they were a little disappointed.

* * *

I know, it's not Beta'd and there were like a gizzilion mistakes. But I'm gonna be honest, this isn't a work of art it's more of a laugh really ;) Let me know if you guys are enjoying it still. Feedback is food for the soul (or so I hear...) xxx


	3. Playing With Fire

_**Songs that inspired/should be listened to whilst reading this chapter:**_Trouble; Pink, Nothin' on You; B.o.B, 15 Step; Radiohead, Fidelity; Regina Spektor, Shut Up and Drive; Rihanna

* * *

"In order to survive high school social warfare, three things are required."

Carly paced back and forth in the small space between the television and the sofa, a long stick in one hand and her gaze carefully trained on her three cadets on the sofa.

"One," she announced with a loud slap of the stick to the coffee table. Freddie winced, the noise crackling in his ear. "We need to stand united."

Her eyes narrowed on Sam and Freddie, the pair exchanging dirty looks back and forth. Freddie could not sit far enough away from the dirty blonde, his arms folded, his body tilted towards Noah who was becoming more uncomfortable with the boys proximity as time wore on.

"That means you two," she clarified, pointing the stick between them, "No one will ever believe you're _actually_ dating if you continually rip each other's throats out in public."

"Well to be honest Carls, why in the hell would I want to even be associated with dog breath over here? It was a stupid plan from the outset. I really don't give a flying shit."

"Oh _now_ the Kesha-wannabe doesn't give a flying shit. This _after _she comes all up in my personal space, groping and handling the goods."

"Handling the goods?" Sam scoffed incredulous. "You wish Benson."

Carly cut him off before he could respond, another sharp clap echoing through the Shay's living room. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. And yes Sam you're right. It was a really stupid plan."

Proudly jutting out her chin, Sam's tongue darted out in Freddie's face and she grinned, triumphant.

"Let me finish," Carly cautioned with a scowl, "A really stupid plan that you've already undertaken Puckett. You abandon it now one of two things will happen. One; people will realise what you two were trying to accomplish and you will be social outcasts. Rejects of the system, forced to hang out under the bleachers with the potheads and every other loser this school spits out on a yearly basis."

"I'm failing to see how this affects me adversely," Sam interjected, her tone bland.

"Two," the brunette stressed, staring Sam down, "Two means they don't realise what you two were up to and will forever think that Sam Puckett hooked up with Freddie Benson for shits and giggles, essentially being sloppy seconds to Miley Jasper."

"What?" Sam shrieked, bouncing forward on the sofa, "Who the hell would think that?"

"A lot of people, you put on a very convincing show," Carly smirked, winking at her boyfriend at the end of the sofa.

"It was hardly Oscar worthy!"

"You had your hand on my penis!" Freddie cried, his voice strangled.

"Near! _Near_ your penis!" Sam spat adding a slap to the back of his head for good measure.

"Ouch! Carly! She just hit me!"

"That's it, go cry to Mommy."

"Children!" Carly chastised, her rod hitting the table again, "Please. If anyone else speaks, yells or hits again in the next sixty seconds, the next thing this stick hits won't be the coffee table."

Sam opened her mouth to talk but Carly threw her a pointed glare and aimed the rod in her face, warning her to keep quiet. She pouted, sinking further down the couch, refusing to look anywhere near Freddie's grinning face. After about ten seconds of blissful peace Noah's hand tentatively raised into the air, signalling for his girlfriend's attention.

"Yes honey?"

"Can we keep that rod when this is done?" he flirted, eyebrows raised, eliciting a giggle from Carly who quickly regained her composure and gave him a not so convincing warning look.

"Ok. We all calmed down?" she asked. The three nodded, Sam mumbling a "whatever" under her breath. "Right. I'll continue then. So we all stand united yeah? No fighting in public, no hitting, no cursing and no blatant displays of sexuality in corridors. If this is going to work it's got to be convincing. Bringing me to number two. Sam...you need a makeover."

"What?" came the shrill cry from the sofa.

"No one would believe Freddie would date you the way you are now. It's not even about the way you dress...it's your whole attitude."

"There's nothing wrong with my freakin' attitude," Sam snapped, folding her arms, "And besides, why can't the dork get a makeover? Why does it _have_ to be me?"

"Ok, first off Miley knows rightly you are not his type," Carly informed her, sitting on the coffee table in front of her friend, "Secondly, let's go through a list of who Griffin has dated. There's me, Miley, Joey Kendell..."

"The nerd who sits in the front row of Geometry?" Sam frowned.

"The hot nerd, who resembles Taylor Swift," the brunette corrected.

"So what you're saying is...Griffin likes _good_ girls?"

"Exactly. When have we ever seen him with a Taylor Momsen on his arm? Never. Those girls aren't enough of a challenge."

"But surely if he's dated them, that also means he's dumped them? Good girls aren't right for him," Sam asked, bemused.

"Right again Puckett," Carly smiled, ruffling her best friend's hair, "You're always gonna be Sam Puckett underneath the manners and the new clothes. It's just a transition you need to go through to catch his attention."

A slow smile crossed Sam's lips and she leant back on the sofa, crossing her legs on top of the coffee table. "I'm cool with this plan."

"Wait hold up, what about Miley?"

"What about the slut?" Sam rolled her eyes, pressing a finger to her temple.

"Carly!" Freddie moaned, "She's starting it again."

"Sam, behave."

Another eye roll and she concentrated on pulling a string from the sleeve of her black Led Zeppelin hoodie.

"Continue Freddie," Carly instructed.

"Well, she's gone for Griffin."

"And?"

"He's like the quintessential bad boy. And I'm well..."

"A dork?" Sam smiled sweetly. He glowered at her, returning his attention to Carly.

"I see what you're getting at," she said, angling her body towards Freddie, "And you're right too. But the point is, as sexy and as badass as Griffin is-"

"Honey!" Noah interrupted, looking more than a little uncomfortable.

"I'm getting there sweetie," she reassured, "He's a terrible boyfriend. Horribly self-centred, never calls when he says he will and his Pee-wee babies mean more to him than anyone. These same reasons are ironically also why he's perfect for Sam."

Both boys looked at the blonde on the far end of the couch. She merely shrugged in agreement, chewing absently on her hair. "It's true. I'm the exact same and no one can even compete with ham. Or fried chicken...no wait maybe fried chicken but definitely not ham."

"See. And Miley is used to being treated like a princess by her boyfriends she'll get tired of it pretty damn fast. And go running back to ladies and gentlemen," Carly beamed at the brilliance of her plan, gesturing towards Freddie.

"Me?" he grinned.

"No the Sultan of Brunei," Sam sighed. He chose to ignore her jibe, instead focusing all his energy on Carly clapping with her like an excited school girl. "Great, I have to pretend to date a gay basketball player. What's the third thing?"

Sam gazed up at Carly, wide-eyed and expectant.

"I'm glad you asked. The third, must important thing you need in high school warfare is...me!" she announced, giving a toothy smile.

"Eh...no offence kid, but why exactly do we need you?"

"Besides stopping you two from murdering each other? I'm the link."

"The link?" Freddie asked, confused.

"Not only do I tutor Miley for English, but Griffin constantly texts me asking me out."

"Seriously honey, not doing good things for a guys confidence over here," Noah informed her, grimacing at the boys name. Smiling softly, she took his extended hand and placed herself in his lap, an arm curling around his neck. Freddie watched them, fondly remembering times when Miley was that affectionate with him. She used to be quite the perfect girlfriend; she brought him homemade cupcakes for lunch, she always smelt gorgeous and she was chairperson of the chastity club. Only one of those things had any drawbacks, and although Freddie loved her for the modesty and virtue she exuded he wished sometimes, only sometimes, that she would let go if only a little. Being the perfect couple could become tiresome at times, and Freddie had enough standards to live up to already with Marissa as his mother.

"Great, I've two girls to compete with," Sam mumbled, breaking him out of his reverie.

"Not really. He just wants what he can't have. And when you suddenly become unavailable..."

"My God. You are like the Queen of Schemes," the blonde gasped, disbelieving, "I'm just so proud."

"Yeah I got to say Carls...well done," Freddie added.

"Thank you, thank you," Carly teased, giving a playful bow.

"I don't know whether to be scared or turned on right now," Noah said, getting a kiss on the cheek as his reward.

"I think a lil of both," Sam joked.

"But wait...what am I here for?" he asked, giving Carly a little squeeze.

"You Baby, are my wingman. You hear anyone voicing doubts about these two, debating whether or not it's a scam or a hook up, you put them straight."

"You mean, lie."

"She means _put them straight_," Sam warned the sandy blonde boy, her fist coiling at her side.

Shifting uncomfortably, he hid behind his girlfriend, holding her waist for dear life.

"There'll be no threatening of the cute boyfriend who just wants to help Sam," Carly told her.

"As long as cute boyfriend keeps his mouth shut, I'll keep my fist in my pocket."

"Why? Why are you so evil?" Freddie asked, shocked by her abrasiveness.

Carly intercepted once again before the argument got out of hand, and retook her stance in front of the television.

"Ok so now we got this sorted; meeting adjourned...well not really, just you Noah, I need to speak with these two."

"I'm so glad I don't have trust issues," Noah breathed, shifting from the sofa and planting a quick kiss on Carly's lips. She smiled and waited for him to exit the living room, taking the stairs two at a time as he headed for her bedroom.

"Right. You two." Her voice changed, once airy and bright for Noah, back to scary commando lady from before. "Can you two hold it together?"

Both glanced at each other, unsure of how to respond to the request.

"In what way?" Freddie asked, eventually.

"I mean I heard about your fight underneath the bleachers. I got a sum up of what was said and how it was said. I know you two have history and I know this is going to be difficult. Can you two manage to be civil now? Because if not this whole thing is sort of point-"

"Imma stop you there Carls," Sam cut in, sharp and quick. "Me and Freddie will always kill each other. But we can't hurt each other, not really. The fight, the stuff that was said, I don't give two craps. Neither does he. We're all good. Well as good as a doofus and a girl can be."

Carly looked to Freddie on the sofa for confirmation and he simply shrugged. "I'm good if Sam is."

"But what about everything that happened before?"

"_Nothing _happened before," Sam corrected sternly. Carly glanced to Freddie who refocused his eyes on a spot on the floor.

"Fine," she exhaled slowly, "As long as no one gets hurt, I'll help you guys out."

"Thanks Carls," Sam offered a meek smile, before turning back and scooping her bag from the floor. "Well, I'm out. Text me about this make over or whatever."

With that the blonde disappeared out the door without acknowledging Freddie. A concerned Carly, watched the path she had made from the apartment, chewing on her fingernail. Carly had never imagined herself to be much of meddler, certainly not for malicious means anyway. She felt sort of dirty, and a little bit evil. Kind of like one of those mean girls from that Lindsay Lohan movie she watched as a kid.

"You ok?" Freddie asked, suddenly standing beside her, his hand on her elbow.

"No. None of this is ok."

"Then why did you agree to it?" he asked with puppy dog eyes.

"Because I couldn't stand to watch you both rip each other apart again."

Guiltily he stared at the wall, taking an audible gulp.

"Carls...I love Miley. I'll do _whatever_ it takes to get her back."

"Yeah I know," she said, her voice a hushed whisper, "I just really hope she's worth it."

* * *

Flopping down on the bed beside Noah, Carly whimpered a little as she buried herself into the crook of his arm.

"Sam and Freddie gone?" he asked, flipping through channels on her television.

"Yup," she confirmed, playing with the fabric of his football shirt.

"Everything ok?"

"Yup."

"Really?" he probed, his hand finding itself tangled in the soft brown hue of her hair.

"Did I ever tell you about when Sam and Freddie fought? I mean the last time, the big one a year ago."

Adjusting the pillows he sat himself up, as if to attention, his free hand dropping the remote and cradling her.

"Not really," he answered, "You want to?"

"They used to be close you know?" she supplied, "Real close. Sometimes closer than I was with them."

"I can't imagine them ever being nice to one another."

"Oh no, they murdered each other," Carly chortled, pushing herself up. She gave the glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose a playful push and he removed them, sticking his tongue out at her.

"See that I can believe."

She laughed again, a cheerful sound that bounced off the bedroom walls, vibrating against his chest.

"They were though. There was even a time when...when I kind of thought they might even date."

"No!" Noah gasped, a little surprised.

"Swear. They hung out constantly. Sam's punches came with a little more love, Freddie pulled back on the insults. I think even Sam thought...well anyway just as it seemed they were _there_, Freddie turned around and asked Miley out. I remember when Sam found out...she just looked _so_ hurt. Like someone had taken her heart and trampled all over it. But of course this is Sam we're talking about so we never spoke of it. It never happened. They just grew apart according to her. We still don't talk about it."

"You think Freddie knew?"

"Think he knew about Sam? Yeah. Strange thing is I think he wanted to ask her out. I just don't know what happened in his boy brain."

"The boy brain _is_ a complex maze," he teased, his fingers grazing the skin of her neck. "Maybe he got scared."

"Even if he did, I don't think it matters. Sam pretty much lost all trust in him, any boy really. That's why she's never really had a boyfriend ya know?"

"She hides it well," Noah snorted a laugh and Carly poked his chest roughly, lying back down.

"That's my best friend you're talking about bucko," she warned, "Besides. Sam's just misunderstood. She's the most honest person in that goddamn school, the only person who doesn't play games. Well...up until now."

"You hate this don't you?" Noah placed a formless kiss on top of the mass of hair and she let out a dainty sigh.

"Sort of," she admitted, "but this little plan is all part of my big master plan."

"Big master plan?" Noah said, falling asleep against her headboard, "Do tell Shay."

"You'll see baby, it'll all come together," she smiled, crawling up his chest and kissing his lips.

"You sound like a Bond villain."

"I just need a white cat...buy me one?" she giggled, watching her now sleeping boyfriend mumble in his slumber.

"Sure. Anything you want honey."

This was what she wanted for Sam, she decided, lying back on bed, cuddling up to her boyfriend. She wanted this security, the feeling of closeness. As yet, she wasn't entirely sure if it was what her best friend wanted. But she knew it was what she needed, and Carly had an uncanny knack of gently nudging her friends into what was best for them.

* * *

Walking into school, Freddie could tell the population of students still hadn't gotten over Sam's little midweek show. All eyes trained on him as he made his way down the corridor towards his locker, his head ducked low to avoid their harsh stares. Often on the giving end of gossip, it was odd to be on the receiving end. Freddie Benson was not one to cause a stir, instead preferring to totter through life unnoticed and as quietly as possible. Miley suited him in this respect; she commanded attention but the welcomed kind. The kind that made a guy proud to be her boyfriend. He missed the feeling of being comfortable around someone, to have a person who wanted to see him first thing on a school morning, someone to kiss him before class. It was an odd absence in his life, something he had grown quite accustomed to, had vanished and he was left a little emptier than before. He felt lonely walking through the corridors now, he missed the contact.

Rounding the corner, Carly greeted him with a wave and a smile, summoning him over to her locker on the opposite side of the hall. Obediently he trekked over, dragging his feet.

"Who died?" she frowned.

"My heart," he sighed gloomily eliciting an emphatic eye roll from the brunette.

"Ok, when did you turn emo?" she mocked.

"Did you actually call me over here to belittle me? Because seriously, I get enough of that from Sam."

"Oh chill out Mr Sensitive," she scolded, "And speaking of Sam, you are going to _love_ what I've done with her."

"Unless it involves black bin bags and a shovel, I doubt I'll care," he grumbled, rubbing his face.

"Ok, did you like get an extra dose of teenage hormones today or something? Because this mean thing isn't working for you."

"Sorry, I'm sorry alright? I'm sure you did a great job on Sam."

Her scowl made way for a bright smile and she nodded, gesturing towards something behind him. "See for yourself."

Spinning around he wasn't entirely prepared for what he laid eyes on, and nor was he sure how to react. Standing a few inches away was Sam looking rather different to the person he had come to know. Soft browns replaced her usual dark, heavy eye make-up; her bright blonde hair was now a darker shade and cascaded in large waves round her shoulders. Gone was the usual angry death metal t-shirt and torn jeans, and in their place was a simple white t-shirt and light blue denims, paired with a red pair of converse. It wasn't an extreme version of Sam; she wasn't wearing a garish pink dress, her hair wasn't in ribbons. It was almost like the Sam he knew was back and this is why his breath caught and his throat swelled up. At least this is what he told himself.

"Well say something dorkbrain!" she commanded, looking anxious.

"You look ok," he choked out. A punch from behind prompted him to alter his "ok" to "good", but Sam still looked uncomfortable with his reaction.

"I look ridiculous, see Carly," she pouted, pinching the fabric of her skin tight jeans between her fingers.

"You look great," Carly assured, placing an arm around her shoulders, "Freddie's just speechless."

She pulled away from her best friend, eyeing her with concern as she saddled up to Freddie's side.

"You talk to her," she instructed in a whisper to his ear, "And be nice."

With that Carly disappeared down the hallway, leaving the awkward teenagers to consider each other in silence before Freddie finally spoke.

"I saw a movie last night you'd like," he offered.

"Oh yeah?" she muttered, clearly not paying attention. Or not caring to.

"Yeah. It's a horror film, an old one. Ever heard of Alfred Hitchcock?"

"You kidding me? Dude there's not a film of his I haven't seen."

He knew this, he knew this all too well but his plan worked – he had gotten her talking.

"So you've seen the Birds? It scared the living shit out of me."

"Well of course it did, you're a pansy," she told him with a grin. They started bantering back and forth; Freddie telling Sam about his mother chastising him for watching what she called a sick minded film and Sam telling Freddie his mom was a nut job. Laughter, jibes and pokes followed by the lockers, the pair getting reacquainted with familiar territory all the while being watched by a curious Miley Jacobs, wondering what exactly the low grumble settling in her stomach was that seemed to occur at the sight of her ex and his new fling.

* * *

**A/N: **Ok first off, wow you guys. Thanks for the AMAZING reviews. I'm glad you're still enjoying this one. This chapter was mostly dialogue I know, but I had to get the plot moving a little. And don't think just because Sam and Freddie are kind of/sort of talking towards the end means that it's all gravy from here on in. C'mon it's Sam and Freddie, there HAS to be some more tension right? ;) This chapter however was also epic shit and not beta'd and for that I sincerely apologise. I enjoyed writing Carly though. So often people make her the villain in Seddie stories and I liked making her all fun. Gotta say a big thanks to Axel100 who gave me some insight into Sam and caused me to rethink some things. It was much appreciated I really should get round to Pm'ing you all to thank you individually for taking the time to review, it's so sweet that you do. You really don't know how much reviews make my day. Feedback makes me smile. So again, feel free to let me know what you think and I'm curious to know how many of you like/dislike the character of Carly and if it's because she stands in the way of your ship? That really is just curiosity on my behalf! Lolz I think sometimes the show can make her a bit whiney and perfect for my liking. If I had the power I'd change a few aspects of her personality but that might change the dynamic in the group so...me no know. Anyways peace out children, remember stay in school and don't eat pigeons, no matter how evil they are.


	4. I love it when a plan

**Songs that inspired/should be listened to whilst reading this chapter: **Inevitable; Anberlin, The Blowers Daughter; Damien Rice, We Used To Be Friends; The Dandy Warhols, The Writer; Ellie Goulding, Something About You; Five For Fighting

* * *

The annual "A Night With The Stars" dance was fast approaching. It was an event that usually passed Sam Puckett by without as much as a blink of an eye. It was no secret that she didn't revel in any of the usual high school social activities deemed healthy and normal by peers from generations passed. Her opinion of them was similar to that she held of the current high school population; they were all pansies and their ideas on what constituted a fun social gathering was retarded. So Sam elected her right to choose, and her choice for the past two years was not to venture within ten miles of said event. So far, she had avoided it well. The crowd she hung out with weren't really "school dance" people anyway, so even talking about the occasion was easy to avoid. Her only problem was Carly. She usually berated Sam relentlessly, telling her she should "give it a chance" and that she "would enjoy herself". This Sam sincerely doubted, but saying no to Carly was like kicking a puppy. Sam however somehow found the strength within to abuse that puppy and give a firm and direct no, every time the brunette tried to coerce her into attending. She was quite proud in her successful ability to decline her best friend for two years but she had a feeling that was all about to change, what with the way Carly squealed and hugged her when the posters popped up all around school.

"Oh I _love_ this dance," she supplied with a delighted jig.

"Yeah what's not to love? A lot of sexually frustrated boys and awkward teenage girls in an alcohol free room together for the entire night, that's a recipe for fun right there," Sam quipped, taking up the seat beside Carly on the lunch bench.

"It actually is," Carly frowned, pointing her fork at Sam's face for effect, "It's getting together with great people, talking about the year's events so far..."

"Yeah and as I recall for the past two years you've had a date to _both_ dances."

"So?" she queried, digging her fork into the mash.

"Well I'm sure for the more socially debilitated it's not as fun Carls."

"What are you talking about? You could've had a date and went anytime you wanted."

"Yeah I know!" Sam cried defensively, "Course I could've. But I _chose_ not to. I was talking about the rejects of this school; the glasses wearing, Charles Dickens reading nerds...wait. Were you calling me socially retarded?"

"You have to go this year," the brunette expertly changed the subject, concentrating on mushing her peas in with her potatoes.

"Eh...excuse me? Why do I _have_ to go?"

"Because Freddie always goes," Carly offered by way of explanation without even hazarding a glance at her best friend. A long silence followed and she knew if she dared look in Sam's direction she'd be met with a death glare of epic proportions.

"I'm sorry. I think you just ordered me to go to a lame social event because loser breath goes. Tell me I picked that up wrong."

Raising her eyes, Carly sighed dropping her fork onto her garish red cafeteria tray. "Don't try and scare me with the "tell me you're kidding speech". You heard what I said."

"And I'm still failing to comprehend why you said it," Sam hissed, taking a rough bite from her sandwich.

"You know why Sam," she replied, pushing the tray back, "Freddie has never missed one of these dances. And now you're his girlfriend-"

"Pretend girlfriend," the blonde corrected, hushed.

"_Pretend_ girlfriend...well you have certain obligations."

"Ok this sucks monkey ass. So far I've done all the work and the nerd hasn't had to do a thing. I haven't reaped any benefits here Shay," Sam complained.

"Sure about that?"

"Anything you want to share?" she picked up on Carly's suggestive tone, and a grin formed on her lips.

"Well Griffin texted me last night. And for the first time he wasn't interested in asking me out."

"Do tell Cupcake."

"He was very interested in finding out about you and Freddie though. Of course I played it cool, just saying you both seemed to be serious enough and I didn't know much."

"Carly!"

"Sam!" Carly mocked her tone with a smile, "Don't you know how to be subtle? Let's not peak his interests before the main event."

She watched amused as Sam sank back in her chair, smiling. "He was really interested?"

"Totally."

Ok so Carly lied. Griffin hadn't texted...yet. But she knew it was only a matter of time. And she didn't need Sam bailing before she could work her magic. She had to say something to peak the girls curiosity and keep her in. Besides, the truth would have sent her running and Carly was not about to let that happen just as her two best friends were getting reacquainted.

"Did I mention how great I think conniving Carly is?" Sam jested, running a hand through her friend's hair.

"You have no idea," she teased, raising her eyebrows.

"Ok," Sam breathed, rubbing her stomach through the layers of t-shirts she was wearing, "I think we just spent a very girly five minutes there Shay. Too much Sex and the City for my taste. I think I need to do something manly like mudslinging."

"Who's mudslinging?" Noah settled into the chair beside his girlfriend, greeting her with a soft kiss on the mouth. She barely noticed Freddie joining Sam on the other side, eyeing the couple with disgust as the pecks on the lips turned into a full blown make out session.

"And I'm officially not hungry anymore," Sam mumbled, her nose wrinkling.

"I suppose it's kind of cute," Freddie admitted despite himself.

"Excuse me? I don't want to see them swap spit during my meal," she told the boy, lifting a bread roll and throwing it at Carly's head. "Oi! Brody and Avril! A little less kissing, a little more eating. Food is to be respected not ignored."

She rolled her eyes as the pair pulled away, reluctantly planting quick kisses on each other as they did so. It wasn't that she didn't think Carly and Noah were cute, heck, they were adorable as hell but she didn't need it shoved in her face when she hadn't had a good make out session in over three weeks. She had needs, basic needs that needed fulfilling and the stomach churning couple in front of her weren't helping in reminding her of that fact.

"Sorry Sam," Noah offered, handing her a handful of liquorice across the table. She snatched it, pocketing the precious sweet.

"That's more like it," she nodded, satisfied. Catching Freddie smirking out the corner of her eye, her face fell and she landed a hard punch on his shoulder. The boy buckled but did not stop smiling, instead pushing his face towards hers, his grin getting bigger the closer he managed to get.

"Eh, do you have death wish Benson?" she chuckled, despite every fibre of her being screaming at her to punch him again for good measure.

"He's happy is all," Noah informed the table, unscrewing his bottle of cola, "we just heard that Miley was asking all sorts of things about you and Freddie. Apparently she's a little jealous."

"Of course she is," Sam affirmed, straightening up in her chair, "Momma is hot."

"Point is, she's asking. Which means she still interested, which also means I'm not a complete loser in her books," Freddie added, almost sneering at the blonde beside him.

"Whatever Fredwina, you're still a loser in mine," Sam muttered, chewing loudly on her liquorice.

"Her asking could also be kind of risky too," Carly interrupted, concerned, "We don't want her asking too many questions, I mean it's still a work in progress."

"What are you talking about? Griffin's asking about me, Miley's once again looking to mate with Spudnick here, all is going swimmingly, isn't it?"

"Sam, if Miley dives too deeply she's going to realise there isn't much to substantiate a relationship between you two. And on the subject, would it kill you both to act a little bit more like a couple?"

"Hey! We talked for ten straight minutes in the hallway yesterday and Freddie came out bruise-less. I think I'm doing pretty well." She looked to Freddie for confirmation and he nodded vigorously, still beaming from the earlier news in the corridor. "Stop smiling, you're scaring me."

"My happiness scares you?" Freddie asked, his brow furrowed.

"Well no but it's making me want to barf and/or punch you. Preferably both. At the same time."

Reaching up, the dark haired boy made the risky decision of stealing a long stringy sweet from her lips and popping it in his, still grinning.

"You did not just do that!" she uttered, shocked, "Do not swallow that Fredweird, I mean it."

"Guys," Carly tried softly.

He sucked it in further, holding it between his teeth and teasing her. The blonde rose up in her seat, clambering on top of the boy beside her, her fingers digging harshly into his cheeks as she tried to force the liquorice free. The harder she poked, the more he sucked the sweet down and he was sure he could feel her nails digging bruises into his skin. He was just wondering how exactly he was going to explain_ that_ to his mother when he felt a sharp searing pain in the back of his neck. Sam had managed to wrangle a hand around, pinching the sensitive skin between her claws.

"Give it!" she ordered and he was sure he could feel her draw blood.

"No," came his muffled, defiant response. Something flashed in her wild blue eyes, something much worse than determination, something much more violent and for a moment Freddie physically shook at the thought of what Sam was capable of doing.

"Guys seriously!" Carly's voice cut in again, sharp and angry. The pair stopped, Freddie still fending her off, his fingers gripped around her wrists pushing her back. Sam was still half standing, half kneeling on his seat, her jean clad leg precariously placed between his thighs. Looking around he realised that for the second time they had caused quite a scene and just as he was wondering how on earth they would recover from this, Sam swooped down, her teeth expertly curling around the candy and stealing it from his mouth. The smell of her coconut shampoo overwhelmed when her hair fell around his face in soft tresses. For the second time that week Freddie found himself absolutely terrified at the prospect of Sam kissing him and, for the second time, she had come absurdly close. She backed up quickly, retreating to her side of the bench. Dazed from the recent proximity of her lips and with heavy lidded eyes he glanced from a surprised and now quiet Carly to Sam, who smugly revealed the liquorice now clenched between gleaming white teeth. He also noticed that while the majority of the cafeteria went about their business, one table did indeed stare over. Sitting perched on the end of the rough wood Miley glared over at her ex-boyfriend, her friends whispering around her. Searing brown eyes held his gaze and the only thing to prompt him round was Sam standing up and fixing her sling bag over her shoulder.

"Coupley enough for ya there Carls?" she shot at her best friend before turning her attention to Freddie, "Don't get too used to that. Guaranteed it won't happen often."

With that she sloped off, dumping her tray in the trashcan before catching up with a shady looking skater boy and immediately engaging in some serious conversation while alternately showing him the pictures she had found of Miss Briggs on the internet the previous evening. Honestly, Carly would have been more disgruntled at Sam's display if it wasn't so damned cute and convincing. She could not have planned better herself and she wondered if it was all a little too natural. She stared after her before turning her attention to Freddie who was now visibly shuddering at the thought of being within a metre of the dirty blonde

"Oh please," she rolled her eyes, resuming her lunch, "like you didn't love it."

"Excuse me? Do I look like I want to catch rabies? Like I'd want Sam Puckett squirming on my lap," he ranted, a little too defensively.

Smirking, Carly gestured towards the boy's ex-girlfriend who still looked affronted by their display of affection in the cafeteria. "I meant _that_. Geez Freddie, a little nervous there are we?"

Making a face, he looked to Miley offering her a small wave which she refused to accept graciously instead wrinkling her nose, flicking her hair and turning back to her table. Freddie often wondered about girls and why they insisted on playing ridiculous mind games. It was completely true what they said – men and women were from distinctly different planets. Freddie found such games a pointless waste of time; he was a straight forward kind of guy and he would happily walk over to his ex right now and tell her exactly how he felt. But these new rules and tactics imposed by the female population meant he had to follow them down to the wire in order to win Miley back. A part of him, for however brief a moment, wondered if she was worth it – if deep down this was what he wanted. It was an odd feeling, something he had never questioned before more because he had no reason to more than anything else. If he was quite frank with himself Miley was all he knew. Sure, there was once a fleeting period in which Carly was his world and he was with her for one-tenth of a millisecond but it wasn't a _real_ relationship. Miley was completely real and had been for two years of his teenage life, and in teenage years this was an eternity. She had meant the world to him; his third kiss and his first _real_ love. Well this was what he was told. If he thought about, and he didn't like to think about it too much, he was told he loved her before he had even really decided if he did. Her friends flocked around him like kids to candy floss telling him how "so in love" Miley was and how he _must_ feel the same because he spent all his time with her, and because well, she was just so damn perfect. Now Freddie is not duped into things easily, but these girls sold it well. And even though it may not have been true in that moment, he told them he did love her. It didn't matter though; he felt it eventually. It just took a bit longer than he expected, and a lot more adjusting than he had hoped.

If he compared how he felt for her against how he felt for Carly, both feelings were much the same. Both were completely logical, both girls made total sense and both girls fitted that adorable stereotype he craved. He had heard love to be illogical, something that happened head over heels and made little sense. But he could not validate such a theory when he had never experienced anything quite like _that_. A small part of his head argues that this isn't exactly true but that part is pushed far and away, kept under lock and key.

"You have to ask Sam to Trey's motorbike thing tonight," Carly snapped him out of his reverie and his eyes fixed her with a glare.

"I'm not going motor biking tonight. Especially not with Sam, fast vehicles and Sam Puckett do not mix," he told her, still tasting the remnants of red liquorice on his tongue.

"Sam Puckett on a motorbike. There's an image that blows your mind," Noah mused with a dazed look. Rolling her eyes, Carly slapped him sharply on the back of his arm.

"Stop fantasising about my best friend," she warned, albeit softly.

"You two have an odd relationship," Freddie observed, baffled as to why Carly wouldn't be more insulted by her boyfriend thinking _that_ way about her friend.

"Oh what? Because he thinks of Sam on a bike? Freddie I'm straight but even I find that picture hot," she grinned, eliciting odd looks from both boys.

"I have the best girlfriend. Ever."

Mouth agape Freddie struggled to regain composer, images of Sam, Carly and motorcycle dominating brain activity.

"Ok guys seriously. Miss Briggs naked."

"Ew!" both cried in unison, Noah turning pale.

"My God, I'm good," she smiled proudly, finishing the potatoes on her plate and gathering her belongings. Obediently, Noah stood with her. Watching them was an odd experience; they were so completely in unison they even finished lunch at the same time. They just...fitted.

"Anyway Freddie," she began again, her tone serious and direct, "This is non-negotiable. You two gotta do something other than feel each other up in public. And this is the perfect event to debut you both as a bonafide couple. Ask her, I don't care how. Just do it. Besides...Miley will be there."

She winked, a little too emphatically before walking hand in hand with Noah from the cafeteria leaving Freddie to push his food around his plate before giving up and throwing his fork down. Everything seemed to be spiralling far out of his control. At least before Carly was involved, he felt he had some element of decision making power over what happened and how. Now he felt like a puppet, every feeling every action precisely executed by others around him. It wasn't a feeling that sat well and he made the decision then that he wanted out. Suddenly angry he got up in search of either the demon blonde or Carly who's bid to become the next presidential candidate seemed to be going rather well as evident by her scarily accurate planning abilities. He roamed the halls, finally finding Sam standing by her locker talking with Griffen. Something slowed him and he watched the pair from afar. Sam's demeanour had completely changed; she was laughing, joking, hair tossing and...was she touching his bicep? Freddie was mad, abhorrently so. She was meant to be his girlfriend, she was certainly not meant to be flirting with Griffen at such a crucial stage of planning. And while he was perfectly well aware that only two minutes ago he was on his way to tell her that this very same plan was off, he still felt betrayed. Betrayed and certainly not jealous. He was fully intent on turning away and forgetting about this stupid, far fetched idea. His feet however refused to listen to him and he approached at long stride, marching right up beside the blonde and looking Griffen square in the eyes.

"Benson," the boy greeted with a nod.

"Hey," he mumbled, expelling a breath before turning to Sam, "Sam, Trey's motorcycle thing is tonight, you coming with me?"

Quite taken aback, Sam let out a nervous chuckle glancing between both boys. "Erm...sure? Actually Griffen was just saying that he was planning to go t-"

She was cut off suddenly, Freddie smoothly forcing her back against the lockers with a kiss to her mouth. His hands covered her face; he half expected her to try to pull back or fight him off in some way so he figured he may need leverage. But indeed she did not fight, instead responding gently to his kiss, her mouth working against his in slow, soft movements. There was no tongue involved; Freddie figured she may bite it off if he tried. So instead he finished by kissing her bottom lip, then the top before pulling back and wiping her smudged lip gloss with his thumb. Glancing sideways, his suspicions of Griffen's departure were confirmed by the sight of the boy now retreating back to his friends on the opposite end of the hallway.

"Don't get too used to that. Guaranteed it won't happen often," Freddie whispered her earlier sentiments, his hands falling from her face. A sharp searing pain shot up his leg when the heel of her Converse made contact with his heel in an expertly concealed movement. She leant in with her hand on his chest, still a little dizzy.

"If you ever dare kiss me again, I'll break both your legs," she hissed, "And besides, Carly said no more sexual displays in the hallway. She is _not_ going to be happy."

And then she was gone, he could only assume to either plot some horrible revenge or tell Carly what he had done. No, he assumed Carly would not be happy and yes he was sure that Sam would make good on the threat of breaking his legs, but it was so hard to care about either when his lips tingled like they did and his skin burned from where her hand had rested just above his heart.

* * *

_A/N: _Orginally there was going to be no kiss in this chapter but I struggled with how Freddie would approach Griffen and how he would deal with the jealousy of seeing Sam with him. To be honest my mind was going, "just make the boy take charge and kiss her Goddammit!" So that's what I did, sort of because it fits with the theme of Freddie trying to regain some level of control in the plan. But mostly it was so they could make out. Also I hope I conveyed the little scene with the liquorice coupley enough, and not too sexual. What I wanted to depict was the image of a couple play fighting so that's what it would look like to everyone in the cafeteria and of course to the reader. I'm not sure if it came across too well but I digress. I'm quickly losing patience with my writing; it seems to be epically shit of late. Someone write this for me? Lol By the way you guys are amazing, I do not deserve 60 plus reviews for this heap of poop. Best. Readers. Ever.


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